


it's so hard to believe that it's all coming back to me

by r1ker



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10428912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker





	

LeFou and Gaston have shared a bed far too many times for two grown men. For one, space is at a premium when you're in a regiment of over a hundred soldiers. Bunking up is a fact of life. LeFou can tell any admirer of Gaston's his dirty little bedtime habits in a span of seconds, rattling off as many as he can think of. 

 

Gaston snores. God, it's terrible, so much so that LeFou almost has to smother himself with his own pillow to drown out the noise. When he's not busy rumbling like a beast he takes the rest of his strength and latches into LeFou for dear life. 

 

Though that's not the worst (LeFou loves running his hands through Gaston's hair, getting in those sleepy little touches before he finally drifts off) it doesn't help when the French countryside retains a good amount of the day's heat well into the night. Gaston talks in his sleep sometimes with drowsy little murmurs ranging from jokes a five-year-old would tell to lamentations about things they did together earlier in the day. 

 

One night it feels different. Both of them are coming off of a long horseback ride to a new shelter far away from the carnage of war. LeFou’s exhausted so he takes right to the bedroll as soon as he gets it set up on the tent floor. Gaston is pent up on his half of the sheets with most of his body curled inward. When LeFou puts a hand on his shoulder he snatches it back the second it looks like Gaston's going to rear around and slap him. 

 

"Don't touch me," Gaston spits. Something in LeFou's chest twinges so he withdraws and finishes getting ready for bed, replenishing his stockings and shedding the heavy overcoat he'd worn on the ride in. A soft breath over the mouth of the candle keeping the room washed in a warm amber glow and it's pitch black. 

 

He doesn't go to sleep right away. Swallowing the tears back at Gaston's words is easier said than done. There's a part of him that wants to grab his pillow and one of their blankets and sleep at the corner of the tent more exposed to the night chill. No sense in giving into what he wants deep in sleep, to be close to Gaston at all costs, something he very much cannot consider now. 

 

So LeFou dozes, drifts in and out of dreams much more pleasant than the reality he and his partner have found themselves in, the melancholy of wartime. As usual there are homes far away from Monmartre, in the cradle of Paris where LeFou can return to his former love of tailoring. A dainty apartment with Gaston, stiff budget and lingering affection keeping them to one bed only. Waking up amongst the down and silk deep in something warmer, Gaston, his shaking arms around LeFou's neck, knees hiked up around LeFou's hips. 

 

With a sharp inhale LeFou wakes up. Not of his own reverie but for the tossing and turning of the man next to him in bed. Gaston's gasping like he's running a marathon, trembling hard enough to make LeFou wince in sympathy. It's over the second Gaston jolts awake and nearly topples over in the process. He runs his hands over his mussed hair that's long since been without the reins of a hairband. 

 

LeFou lights one of the smaller candles on the bedside table and rounds the foot of the bed to take his place at Gaston's side. The two men sit close enough to have their naked thighs touching at the sides. Sweat beads on the back of Gaston's hands and LeFou can see it run down his arms as well, in rivulets that can only be the consequence of a monstrous nightmare. 

 

So, subtlety be damned, LeFou takes one of those hands in his own. The fingers to it resist but soon wrap around LeFou's nervously. "Oh, you’d- you’d died and I... hadn't gotten there soon enough to stop them." LeFou squeezes Gaston's hand and successfully resists the urge to bring it to his mouth to kiss. "Just like I'd done for Louis, for Jean, God forgive me."

 

Gaston puts his head on LeFou's shoulder and LeFou returns the favor, his cheek nicely pillowed on lush black hair. There he can smell the lavender that had been poured into the bar soap distributed amongst the soldiers and beneath it countless oils Gaston depended on to keep his hair in line. “I’ll be here as long as you’ll be here.”

 

“Sometimes I don’t want to be,” Gaston whispers with a voice smaller than any LeFou has heard him use in all of the years they’ve known each other. He knows it hasn’t been easy for Gaston but it hadn’t crossed his mind once that Gaston would have the want to seek the same end that came unfortunately to their comrades. “I want to be miles, leagues, lifetimes away from here with no one at my side but you. Not a regiment, not a movement full of soldiers depending on me. I never wanted it. Who would?”

 

LeFou’s arm wraps around Gaston’s back near his waist and draws him closer. To his relief Gaston fits himself comfortably at his partner’s side. LeFou can feel every breath and every shuddering sob that follows rattling through Gaston’s chest and its uneven rise. He holds on tighter and doesn’t let Gaston shy away as it becomes more evident that he’s crying. “I know you’re upset.”

 

Gaston laughs, a strange little noise. The tears have come to a stop and are slowly being overcome by a tensing anger, something that gradually stiffens Gaston’s entire body as if it’s preparing for a fight. “I am not upset. I’m not some sniveling little boy hiding in his mother’s skirts from bayonets and bullets. I am angry more than you or any one of those men out there asleep could ever fathom. Nothing more do I regret in my life than signing up for this. I’ve brought more damage than good, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

LeFou can feel himself getting riled up as well. There was a strange inevitability that came with being a man of the military and for Gaston to not accept it and deal with it come what may was infuriating. “You have brought so much to those men, and to me as well. They have a fearless leader and a kind friend. Don’t underestimate my ability to read you like a book, Gaston.” Gaston gapes but averts his face before LeFou can reap the pride that comes from getting Gaston where it counts. 

Gaston deflates knowing he’s lost his chance at the upper hand. He relinquishes all hold and contact he has with LeFou and folds himself back into his place on the bed. However, LeFou follows him. Bewildered Gaston readjusts himself to allow for space for another person. LeFou’s intentions aren’t predatorily motivated but are in sight of comfort, and he lies atop Gaston, embracing him across his shoulders. LeFou kisses whatever bare skin is exposed by where Gaston’s tunic is pulled down. “For so long I have wanted to read you...like the books you don’t dare to pick up.”

 

He moves upward and kisses the underside of Gaston’s chin and claims his mouth before he can waste a moment’s time. Thankfully Gaston’s mouth opens under his and LeFou inches closer, edging a knee between Gaston’s legs. The two breathe hard and part when the burn in their lungs is too strong to ignore. “Kissing me like some sort of harlot, that’s how they learn to read?” LeFou grins and laughs with what breath he’s gotten back. He tips forward and presses his forehead to Gaston’s to urge him to go along with this, seek comfort in a more fulfilling way than self-destruction.

 

“They learn to read,” LeFou begins to explain as he sits on his knees across either side of Gaston. He’s been hard since long before Gaston’s breakdown. Fortunately Gaston doesn’t seem to mind and tilts his hips up himself. LeFou takes note and gets a hand around the both of them, but Gaston stops him before he can get started. Rather Gaston takes the lead and wraps his hand around LeFou’s cock, stroking base to tip in full contact strokes. LeFou can’t figure out if he’s dead or alive by how surreal this whole thing feels. “Learn to read by touch, they...feel the pages, the covers, the spines of the books.” 

 

Gaston huffs a breath and picks up the speed, the look in his eyes and the motions of his hand suggesting he’d like to take the course less travelled, and steer away from literary synonymity. “Feeling me’s all you’ve wanted to do, hasn’t it?” Between the sounds of their breaths and the wet sound of Gaston’s hand as LeFou’s cock dribbles precome in response to his ministrations, LeFou’s head nods in affirmation. Taking the hand not steadying himself LeFou runs it down Gaston’s side, feeling the bend and shift of muscles as Gaston breathes shakily. 

 

“You’re more perfect than you give yourself credit for,” LeFou gasps out, the tip of Gaston’s thumb brushing over the head of his cock making each word spoken a tremulous exhale. “Of all the women you could have had, of all the ones that have thrown themselves at you...you pick me.” 

 

He laughs when Gaston leans forward, LeFou basically in his lap now, and tilts LeFou’s face down to his, kissing him. When he thinks he’s got LeFou in a corner he flips the position, takes his hand off of his cock, and kisses his way down the man’s chest. The gasp LeFou lets out as the even groove of Gaston’s teeth bite into the flesh of his belly vibrates against his lips. The one that follows as he comes on Gaston’s chin and neck is equally as stunned. 

 

Looking down, Gaston puts his hands on LeFou’s thighs, feel them tremble as he comes down from the unimaginable high. There he takes the time to finish himself off, coming with a sigh on LeFou’s belly, just below where the skin’s red from his bite. Gaston breathes heavily and grabs up the corner of the bed sheet not crumpled on the ground, swiping it lazily over the both of them in a feeble attempt to clean up. He resettles them both to finish out their night of rest even as LeFou still hasn’t recollected himself. 


End file.
